


Looking for Improbable Help

by Swax



Series: Somewhere Over the Rift [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Gen, Grieving Dean, Grieving Sam, M/M, Not Season/Series 13 compliant, Post-Episode: s12e23 All Along the Watchtower, Slow Build Castiel/Dean Winchester, Supernatural Coda, canonverse, mention of suicide, spn coda 12x23
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-04 23:46:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14031492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swax/pseuds/Swax
Summary: The second instalment from the Somewhere Over the Rift series(SOtR series). If you haven't readthe first part, well I suggest that you do ;)Then:Crowley's dead, Rowena's dead, Kelly's dead, Mary's gone, and Cas is...Well, Dean's having a hard time coping. Lucy the babysitter they saved back in Jacksonville told him to look for help in improbable places... And that's what he's trying to do.Now:While working a case in Tennesse, Dean's trying to find a way to bring Cas back, and he won't give up until he finds it. No matter the cost. Meanwhile, his relationship with Sam is slowly deteriorating.





	1. Rough morning

**Author's Note:**

> It's beeen sooo long! I had almost given up on that story because season 13 is more than half through, but [LeysaByrne ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeysaByrne/pseuds/LeysaByrne) convinced me to finish it, so there it goes!

***

Three weeks.

It had been three weeks since Castiel, the angel of the Lord had died. Three weeks since Dean hadn’t had a good night rest. Three weeks he had drunk himself to sleep.

“Look for help in improbable places, yeah right,” Dean said aloud bitterly. The hunter was slouching on his bed, surrounded by books that, so far, had led him nowhere.

On the desk, a bowl had been toppled over with burnt herbs and incense scattered around, near a half-erased sigil.

Dirty plates were piling up on the bedside table and there was a bottle of whiskey within arm’s reach from the bed.

Dean pressed his fingers on his closed eyelids. His attempts at summoning Crowley had been pointless. Of course, he knew the King of Hell had sacrificed himself to close the rift, but he had faked his death so many times, that the hunter had hoped this was one of those times.

His mom was also gone, and Dean knew Lucifer had killed her as soon as they had disappeared through that rift. Sammy was the only person he cared about and loved who was still alive. The only one left, and somehow Dean felt aloof with him.

Most of the time, they barely spoke unless they were working a job. The last one they had was a rougarou case in Louisiana, and that was a week ago.

Sam always wanted to hunt when Dean only wanted to stay in and do researches. Oh, how the tables had turned!

Dean didn’t understand Sam’s eagerness. His brother never spoke about Cas, he barely mentioned their mom, and he always went out so early in the morning.

After another long sleepless night, Dean finally decided to get out of his room for coffee. He wasn’t surprised when he walked past Sam in running clothes heading for the showers.

“Hello, Dean” Sam greeted him with a tentative smile.

“Morning,” Dean grumbled raising his hand over his head without even a glance at his brother.

Sam’s smile faded. He sighed and shook his head.

He entered the shower room and chose his favorite stall, second to the left.

After a nice warm shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist, grabbed his running clothes and reached his room just as his phone chimed in his shorts.

The name “Lucy” appeared on the screen, Sam tapped on her message and it appeared full screen.

He smiled. Three weeks ago he had met her in Jacksonville and had saved her and the children she babysat from a tulpa. They had been talking ever since. He hadn’t told Dean, how could he? His brother was always moody, anything Sam said could trigger a negative reaction and he didn’t want his relationship with Lucy, or whatever it was, to be tainted by Dean.

He put his phone on the bed and went for his chest of drawers. He picked regular jeans, a t-shirt, and a plaid shirt. He was going crazy in the bunker. Dean barely went out, but Sam couldn’t stay idle. He had to be active otherwise he would just end up like his brother: ruminating dark thoughts and spiralling downward. If he’d stopped even for one minute to think about what had happened, he’d crumble. Dean was broken, and Sam was seeing it firsthand. So obviously, he couldn’t afford to break down too, because then, who would be there to pick them both up?

Sam had spent every waking hour of every day pretending everything was okay and acting strong for the both of them. Even behind closed doors, he was keeping up appearances, it was easier this way: he didn’t have to take off the mask only to put it back on.

Three weeks… How had it been three weeks already? Three weeks since his best friend had passed away, and on the same day, his mom got lost in another dimension. Three weeks since the woman they were supposed to protect had died giving birth to Lucifer’s spawn, his former torturer. And of course, three weeks since Sam hadn’t shed a tear for any of them.

And because of this, he felt a constant weight on his chest, a bubble aching to burst. But of course, he wasn’t allowed to complain to Dean, and thus he had never felt so lonely in his entire life, that’s why talking to Lucy had been so refreshing. It was random and cute flirty texts, nothing much, but it was a ray of sunshine in Sam’s grey days.

After saving her, they had started talking. She was funny and witty, and she was always curious about Sam. She also was quite the adventurer. She had roamed the world with her ex-girlfriend, but it all ended with her last trip to Tibet, where she got a tattoo that led to the tulpa fiasco. She didn’t see it as a bad thing, though. She thought it was a funny stroke of fate that had led her to meet Sam, and though she was getting her tattoo covered sometime soon, she saw that anecdote as utterly amusing! “That’ll teach me to get tattooed for someone! Also, it’ll be something worth telling my grandkids” she had said with a throaty laugh.

Sam picked up a newspaper he had collected on his way back from his jog.

One headline had caught his eye: _Dubious circumstances around a helicopter accident see p.4_. Sam flicked through the pages:

Sam frowned. Yes, it was suspicious indeed.

He looked up the article online and the link leading to Jeremy Dupree’s story, it was good enough for him.

Sam went to the library where he found Dean sipping a coffee and mindlessly eating his first of two cream-filled donuts while looking at his phone.

“Erm, Dean?” Sam asked tentatively.

Without looking away from his phone, Dean grumbled a “yes”.

“I think I found us a job” Sam went on. Dean’s eyes shot up to his brother’s, eyebrows raised expectantly. Sam took it as an invitation to keep going.

“A helicopter accident. Apparently, the pilot crashed into a utility pole on purpose,” Sam explained.

Dean groaned his mouth filled with cream.

“That’s it? A helicopter crash?” Dean finally muttered.

“Yes, but the guy had been to his friend’s funeral the previous week and get this: the friend was a champion swimmer, yet he drowned… In his own tub…”

Without a word, Dean held out his hand to read the newspaper Sam was still holding.

He perused the article and finally looked at his younger brother.

“What about the swimmer?” he inquired.

“Well, it’s all in here. That’s weird, right? Might be our kind of weird?”

“Mmhh,” Dean let out, setting the newspaper beside his mug. He went back to his phone.

Sam huffed and clenched his jaw.

“Well, we’ve checked out less than that…” he trailed off.

“Fine. Can I at least finish my breakfast in peace?” Dean asked.

Sam sighed.

“Sure, Dean,” he replied. He decided to go pack and he disappeared into the corridor as his phone chimed again.

 

 


	2. Proving a point

They arrived in Clarksville around 11 pm.

Sam checked them in while Dean parked the car. The room was a usual motel room with walls of a shabby brown hue.

Dean picked the bed that was the farthest from the door, throwing his bag on it and he headed for a shower without a word, leaving Sam alone in the main room.

Sam put his bag on the remining bed, and took out his computer, wanting to get ahead on researches.

He waited until Dean was done and used the shower too. When he came back in the room his brother had his back turned on him and the lights were off.

He sighed, grumbled a “great” and went to bed.

 

**

 When Sam woke up early the next day, Dean was already sitting at the table with bed hair and a creased t-shirt, cupping his mug of steaming coffee to warm his hands.

“There’s coffee left if you want some,” he yawned. Sam headed to the coffee machine stretching his arms high above his head, yawning, and helped himself. He leaned against the counter as Dean kept on.

“So I made some researches, turns out our pilot was used to flying helicopters and his b—”

Sam held out his hand to stop his brother.

“Wait, researches? Did you sleep at all?” he asked, concerned.

“I had coffee” Dean replied dismissively. “As I was saying, his younger brother was there when he crashed. He’s the witness they mentioned in the newspaper. So we should definitely talk to him, but I think we should go to the crash site first. What do you think?” he asked.

“Sure, yeah let’s start with that,” Sam replied.

Half an hour later, they arrived at the crash site.

Flowers had been laid at the foot of the broken utility pole where burnt marks appeared on the grass. Dean took out his EMF meter and the needle went all the way to the right emitting a high-pitched sound. Sam came closer to Dean.

“EMF’s going crazy here,” Dean said.

“Figures,” Sam replied, nodding towards the pole. “Look, even if this pole’s broken there are power lines everywhere,” he said looking around, “that’d mess up the EMF.”

Dean nodded with a wince and pocketed the device. He crouched by the flowers and read the notes.

“Excuse me?” a voice called, “what are you doing?”

A teenager with dark messy hair showing under his hoodie approached them, hands in his pocket. He looked at Dean defiantly.

Dean raised his eyebrows.

“What are you doing?” the boy asked again, frowning, “don’t you have any respect?” he added, reaching them.

“And you are…?” Dean trailed off as he got up.

“Seth Kaplan. I’m Karl’s brother,” he replied impatiently.

Sam intervened.

“We’re the FBI,” he said taking out his card “I’m agent Fogerty this is agent Cook.”

The teenage boy looked suspiciously at the brothers’ cards, but said nothing, if anything, he kept waiting for an explanation.

“You’re investigating my brother’s death?” he asked eventually.

“Yes, we are, and we actually wanted to talk to you,” Dean replied.

The boy looked around nervously.

“Why me?” he paused, “I haven’t done anything!”

“No, of course not,” Sam said promptly, “it’s just that we know you were there and we wanted you to tell us what you saw.”

Seth wasn’t listening, he was eyeing Dean’s pocket where he put the EMF meter.

“What’s that thing you had earlier?” he inquired, “the beeping thingy?”

Dean tapped the pocket where the device was sitting hidden from view, then handed it to the boy, much to Sam’s surprise.

“That, kid, is an EMF meter,” he said with a smirk.

“It reads electromagnetic waves,” Dean explained. Seth took the small casing and examined it as Sam raised his eyebrows.

“I wanted to check the power in those lines,” Dean said.

The teenage boy switched the meter on and the needle instantly pointed right with a beeping sound.

“So, that means there’s power?”

“Yup,” Dean replied.

“Okay, that’s cool,” he said smiling faintly. He switched off the device and handed back to Dean. Dean mirrored his smile.

“So do you mind telling us what you saw?” Dean asked.

Seth sighed.

“Sure,” he started. “Karl was flying his helicopter; he’s done it so many times. He loves—loved, that thing,” he paused, realizing what he had just said. His expression darkened but he kept going.

“I’m usually not there, but I turned 17 last month and he said he’d take me for a spin. We were just waiting for perfect weather conditions. After his first flight on Sunday, I was supposed to join him…

“But he crashed in that pole right here,” he finished, snuffling.

Tears were now pooling in his eyes. He wiped his nose with his sleeve.

“I’m sorry about your loss Seth,” Sam said with a comforting smile. “So, have you noticed anything out of the ordinary that day?”

“Other than my brother crashing into a pole?” the teenage replied sarcastically.

Sam ignored the lashing out and kept on: “Anything really, was your brother acting weird lately? Did you feel the temperature dropping?”

“No, it was very sunny and very hot. And my brother was, as normal as ever… Just… Well…” he trailed off.

Both brothers cocked an eyebrow, not wanting to push him too much but obviously eager to know what Seth had to say.

“Must have been a reflection on the cockpit window, but I could have sworn he winked at me and kept smiling when piloting his helicopter straight into the pole,” he finished.

The brothers exchanged a look.

“Are you sure he headed to the pole?” Dean asked.

Seth glared “He stared at the pole and kept his hands on the stick. I couldn’t see perfectly, but he didn’t seem to be trying to avoid it,” Seth said crossing his arms.

“So,” Sam started, “we’ve heard your brother’s friend Jeremy died last week. How close were they?”

Seth frowned.

“What does it have to do with this?” he asked.

“We don’t know, yet, but we’re trying to be thorough,” Dean replied.

“They were best friends in high school. They kind of parted ways, but they still saw each other every time they were in town at the same time.”

“Is it correct to say that your brother attended his funeral last Thursday?” Dean inquired.

“Yes, we all did. Jeremy was a local celebrity we all liked him and wanted to pay our respect to his family. And to Nina,” Seth added.

“Who’s Nina?” Sam asked.

“Nina Hawthorne. She was his fiancée, they were supposed to get married right after Thanksgiving,” Seth said. “And now she’s a widow before she even got to be a wife,” he paused and added with a sigh, “They were a cute couple.”

“Do you know of anyone who would want to hurt your brother?” Sam inquired.

Seth frowned.

“No, of course not! My brother was the best, everyone loved him. He used to be very popular back in high school, but he still hung out with me, making sure I was okay,” he said defensively.

Dean put his hand on the teenager’s shoulder and squeezed it lightly.

 “Okay, thank you I think that’s all we need for now,” Dean said. “Hang in there, buddy,”

He gave Seth his card.

“Call us if you remember something,” Dean said, “anything.”

They left the site, Seth staring at them and turning the card between his fingers before pocketing it. He then crouched and arranged the flowers as he cried silently his back turned on the backtracking car.

 

**

 After a knock the door, Sam saw an elderly woman’s face appear in the ajar door.

“May I help you?” the lady asked.

Sam showed his badge and introduced himself and Dean. The lady opened the door and let them in.

“Is this about Jeremy?” she asked with a soft voice.

“Yes, Jeremy and Karl. We’re looking for… Nina? Nina Hawthorne.” Dean replied.

The lady nodded and prompted them to sit in the living room while she went to fetch her granddaughter.

Upon entering the room, Dean looked around taking in the outdated décor: the frames on the wall with yellowing sepia pictures, the sofa that adorned a worn flowery pattern on which a chubby old tabby cat was drowsing, the time-beaten wallpaper… There was no way anyone under seventy lived here. But sure enough, a young woman with a blond bob cut and big crystal blue eyes appeared at the top of the stairs her right shoulder wrapped in a sling. She was wearing warm socks over her black leggings, and a white pullover hoodie displaying a bright orange lettering which read “Tennessee” that must have belonged to her late fiancé.

She walked down the stairs and entered the living room as Dean sneezed.

“My grandmother told me you wanted to see me?” she asked with a broken voice. She looked at Dean and added “Bless you.” To which Dean smiled apologetically.

Sam cleared his throat after glancing at his brother.

“Please, Ms Hawthorne, have a sit with us,” he said in his most soothing voice.

She chose the armchair, Sam sat on the edge of the sofa closest to the armchair, leaving Dean to sit next to the cat. Dean eyed the cat suspiciously and sneezed again. Sam turned to him and gave him a look that said “Come on, get a grip!” which was easier said than done. The cat yawned lazily and stretched its hind paws against Dean’s thigh. Dean tried to sit closer to Sam to avoid any contact with it but the cat decided to climb on his lap and settle there, where it started to purr.

“He seems to like you,” Nina said with a smile that wasn’t quite reaching her beautiful eyes. “He’s not great with strangers usually, but somehow you’re different.”

“Great,” Dean grumbled. And he sneezed. The cat glared at him, annoyed at the sneezing human.

Sam looked over his shoulder, an eyebrow cocked and turned his attention back to the young woman.

“So, Ms Hawthorne, we’re here about—” Sam started.

“You’re here about Jeremy. And Karl,” she interrupted. “Right?”

Sam nodded.

“Please call me Nina. I can’t stand hearing my last name, now. I suppose I was getting used to the idea of taking Jeremy’s and now—” she trailed off with tears in her voice. She wiped her eyes.

 “Oh, of course! I’m sorry Ms Hawth— Nina. We would like to know if you noticed anything out of the ordinary a few days before your fiancé’s death,” Sam said.

She squinted to jog her memory and fiddled mindlessly with her engagement ring.

“I… No. Three weeks ago he received an award for his swimming performances. The County Mayor wanted to celebrate him, and have him become an inspiration to all the young people in Clarksville,” she said her voice breaking on the last word. “I can’t believe he died less than two weeks after that!” she started sobbing heavily, her crystal blue eyes gleaming even more than before.

Dean sat on the edge of the sofa trying to push away the cat that had burrowed its claws into his pants. He gave up and rubbed his itchy nose with his left hand while scratching the cat behind his ear with his right hand.

“What can you tell us about his relationship with Karl?” Dean asked.

“Well, they used to be best friends. We all were,” she blew her nose and wiped her eyes.

“This is unbelievable, how can two best friends die of freaky accidents a week apart?”

“Who said they were freaky?” Sam asked.

“Well what would **_you_** call them?” she asked. “Karl was a good pilot and he crashed in perfect weather conditions exactly a week after his former friend, best swimmer of his generation and about to join the Olympic team, drowned in his bathtub.”

Dean raised his eyebrows and tilted his head in agreement.

“Do you know of anyone who would want to hurt them?” Dean inquired.

“I thought their deaths were accidental,” Nina said suspiciously.

“We’re not ruling out any possibility at the moment” Dead quickly added.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so,” she pondered, “they were very popular, ever since high school. Everyone wanted to be part of their little gang.

“They hung out all the time. Karl, Jeremy, David, and Julian. All four of them. Getting in the group was like becoming instantly important. I met Jeremy back then, and we started dating in secret because he didn’t want his friends to see him as the sappy romantic he really was,” she smiled sadly in remembrance and fiddled her ring again.

Sam squeezed her hand and she smiled weakly.

“Thank you, Agent,” she said.

“So, could you tell us exactly what happened to Jeremy? We read in the file that you were the one who found him?” Sam trod carefully.

She sighed deeply, tears instantly pooling in her eyes. She looked away. Sam and Dean allowed her some time. Her eyes settled on the tabby cat now lying on its back purring loudly on Dean’s lap while the hunter was lazily scratching its belly, his eyes clearly watering from the allergy.

“Last summer we bought a house,” Nina started, “it’s a small house but I’m a real estate agent and when I saw it, I didn’t even bother showing it to clients, I knew it was a perfect fit for us and it was a great first purchase. We really saw a future in this house: we grew up in Clarksville, both our families live here, and that’s what we wanted for our future children.

“So, when Jeremy was off to college, I would be there decorating or planning the wedding. But on the weekends or every time he had some time off, he’d drive all the way from Knoxville and would help me with the works in the house,” she paused and bit her bottom lip: she was getting to the hard part.

“That day, we had finished furnishing my office and he decided to have a bath,” Nina continued. “The week had been exhausting: receiving the award from the mayor, visiting every school around to meet the students, meeting with a lot of town officials, and reuniting with some old friends, including Karl.

“So he went to the bathroom and I was downstairs on the phone with my grandmother, whom you’ve met. I heard him put on some music and run the water, as usual. Then I hung up and made myself a cup of tea. I heard splashing and a crash in the bathroom so I came running and tried to open the door, but it was jammed.”

Nina was lost in her memories and kept talking not aware of the brother’s exchanged looks.

“The music was very loud, I knocked on the door and begged Jeremy to open it and to reply.  But he didn’t. So I started banging and pushing but nothing worked. When I couldn’t hear any more splashing I just gave a final push with my shoulder, but the door swung open and I fell hard against the cabinet,” she paused and displayed her shoulder sling. “That’s when this happened,” she explained.

“It was— It was too late, he was in the bathtub and he had stopped breathing.”

Tears were now streaming down Nina’s face.

“I tried my best to revive him” she wailed, “I pulled him out of the tub, even with my cracked shoulder, I did mouth to mouth and CPR but—” she let out a loud sob, unable to speak anymore as she cried uncontrollably.

“We’re sorry about your loss, Nina,” Sam uttered, his throat tightening at her breakdown.

There was a ruffle of fabric followed by a low unhappy meow from the cat as Dean shifted awkwardly, Nina’s eyes shot up and Dean avoided her stare. After a few seconds, she turned to Sam again. He smiled warmly ignoring Dean’s lack of empathy.

The latter cleared his throat “I’m sorry, but I have to ask,” he started, “have you noticed anything strange that day?”

Nina frowned as her cerulean eyes peered at Dean’s. Dean managed to hold her gaze this time.

“And I mean anything,” he kept on, “was it suddenly cold in the bathroom? Or did you hear any strange noise? Or smell something weird?” he inquired.

“Well, the door wouldn’t budge and then it did. The radio was on, so I couldn’t hear anything else other than the music and the splashing, it smelled of soap and about the temperature, I was in such a rush to get him out of there that I didn’t pay attention to those things—” she paused. “But I really don’t see how any of this is relevant, Agent. I told you that my fiancé, a professional swimmer, drowned in his bathtub and you’re asking me about temperature—”

Sam was quick to come to Dean’s rescue “This is standard procedure. Again, we’re very sorry.”

He stood up, instantly followed by Nina and Dean from whose lap the cat jumped unhappily.

“Would you mind taking us to your home?” Sam asked.

Nina froze.

“No.” Her eyes had turned an icy shade of blue as they held Sam’s gaze. “I’m sorry. I can’t go back—”

She shivered.

“And it’s not my home anymore. It’s just an empty house, and it embodies everything I’ve lost. I’m selling it as soon as I get the chance!” she said harshly.

Sam nodded. “Fine, could you just give us the address? We need to inspect it.”

“Sure,” she replied. She went into the hallway where she grabbed some keys into her coat’s pocket and wrote down an address. Sam and Dean joined her by the door.

“There you go,” she said dropping the keys in Dean’s open hand with a look that was both disgusted and terrified.

“I’m sorry I can’t come with you. It’s just too hard,” she explained.

 “Thank you, we’ll bring them back as soon as we’re done,” Dean said.

And they left.

 

**

The house looked quaint and peaceful.

With its Cape Cod-style, its white clapboard, white picket fence and grey roof tiles, it was obvious why Nina and Jeremy had deemed this house perfect to start a happy family. The colorful flower beds on the front yard alone were enough to give a feeling of welcome.

They climbed the three porch steps and opened the door. They were greeted by a smell of fresh paint. Sam decided to go explore the first floor while Dean went upstairs.

The first door on the left was apparently Nina’s office. He opened the next door on the right of the corridor and he found himself in the bathroom.

Everything had been left as it was. The radio had toppled over the cabinet, while some cream and other beauty products were scattered on the floor, from when Nina supposedly fell. Footprints also tainted the scene all over, but given the different sizes and their angle, Dean assumed they came from the emergency people who attempted to save poor Jeremy.

Dean also noticed some darker spots. He crouched and examined them. Dried blood. Given the broken glass laying around Nina must also have cut herself on the broken bottles trying to rescue her fiancé. He mainly focused his attention towards the bathtub where the mat was crumpled from Nina’s supposed efforts to get Jeremy out and the shower curtain was half ripped from its rod which had fallen into the bathtub. Unless Nina also pulled on the curtain, this was the telltale of a struggle and possibly the origin of the crash she had heard.

Sam entered the bathroom.

“Oh whoa,” he let out. Dean stood up and turned to face his brother.

“So, have you found something?” Sam asked snooping around, his back turned on Dean.

“Not, yet,” Dean replied getting his EMF meter out. As soon as he switched it on, it emitted a high-pitched sound and the needle unmistakably pointed right. Dean raised his eyebrows and Sam spun.

“Well, I don’t think the power lines are to blame this time,” Dean stated.

Sam nodded in agreement and resumed his investigation.

“So ghost?” Sam proclaimed.

“Looks like it,” Dean echoed, “and given that it manifested over two weeks ago and that the signal is still going strong, I’d say it was pretty pissed.”

Sam put the radio back up to examine the front of the device and grimaced in surprise: he had put his thumb in a slimy black substance that came out of the speaker.

“I have to agree with you on that,” he muttered with a disgusted face.

Dean came closer and examined his brother’s finger. He patted Sam on the shoulder with a smirk just before heading to the door.

“Good, you found ectoplasm Sammy,” Dean praised ironically. “Way to prove a point,” he added halfway down the stairs.

Sam huffed, wiped his hand on his pants, and followed his brother out.


End file.
